


Lose Myself Tonight

by craple



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Red Hood and the Outlaws
Genre: Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, Multi, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/M/M, ménage à trois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We are not having sex,” Jason enunciates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose Myself Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> it keeps raining non-stop here, and it's so god-dammit-cold and SO. THIS HAPPENED.

Gotham, in all of her beautiful glorious crime-ridden night gown, is cold, on good days. It rains for hours before it stops, and then it’s all sunshine and just another day full of thugs desperate for money and poor people turning into murderers. No matter how brilliant the city looks, Gotham is still Gotham; a bloody stone-cold Mistress, both in metaphorical and literal sense of words.

Usually, when winter strikes, Jason at least had a fireplace to warm himself with as a child. After getting roped into the ‘Bat Family Business’ as Roy likes to call it, the same way he often mentions Green Arrow during one of his drunken stupor, Jason is more used to the warmth emitted by heating machine, the taste of Alfred’s hot cocoa burning on the tip of his tongue, the mind-blowing sensation of melt-chocolate cake on the back of his throat. Winter was something to look forward to, back then.

But, now that he is out of the business – which means no large overheated mansion with fancy thick comforters or hot sweet cocoa when his teeth start to chatter – living in a spacious loft that is mostly covered in guns and papers without a properly functioning heater, Jason is reminded of how cruel Gotham’s winter can be. Frostbites around his toes, a full bladder every single hour that passes even though he hasn’t drank anything seeing that it is too cold to even _move_ ; Jason takes his words on winter being his favourite season of the year back.

He is now one of the protesters against nature, one to thrive for justice against the existence of winter, and the fucking Santa can go back to North Pole with his red-nosed reindeers to freeze to death or whatever it is he does before he decides that giving presents to well-behaved children is a thing that happens.

Pulling the ten-something layers of blankets tighter around himself, Jason is truly considering calling for help from one of those self-proclaimed ‘Master of the Weather’ when each corner of his cocoon is lifted, wide open for the chill to take charge of his cold numb toes, and two lithe figures sneak inside smoothly like a pair of worms, trapping Jason with their arms sealed tighter than anything he’s felt around his waist.

And those are – those are Kory’s bare breasts pressing against him, and Roy’s naked body pressed flush against his back. Which is not possible, surely, because Jason has _strictly_ told them not to parade their glorious scarred naked bodies around the loft when a fourth party is present, or if _Jason_ is present – and seeing that he _is_ now present, and it _is_ his bed they are currently laying on, it is possible that Jason may have suspect wrong, and they are not naked.

Mumbling something incoherently under her breath, Kory presses closer, her legs slipping between his thighs, and yes, that is her womanhood, wet and searing hot and completely utterly naked against his skin, and Roy is _inappropriately_ hard, his cock pressing insistently between his arse cheeks, and Jason _is too fucking cold for this_ , he does _not_ need this.

Swallowing a lump down his throat, Jason groans internally, blaming himself for not locking the door properly. One of the locks must have fallen of, he thinks, probably malfunctioned due to Roy’s fancy equipments or one of Kory’s attempts to glare her way through the world is finally working, maybe. It’s possible.

When it’s clear that neither of them is planning to move away to make some absolutely-needed space, as it is clear from the start that they are definitely not getting out of this bed even if the Joker decides it’s high time to get out of prison with an army of unstable psychos fresh out of prison, Jason enunciates as firm as one can be when he is bisexual and is currently pressed between two gorgeous people from each gender, “We are not having sex.”

Roy, the little shit he is, grins. Jason can feel the shape of his lips curving, the hint of his teeth brushing the back of Jason’s neck. “Of course we aren’t,” is the reply Roy gives him, but he’s thrusting his cock against Jason’s crack as he says it, and all Jason can think about is blood circulation and producing heat more efficiently by having sex he’s read somewhere, and there’s lube and condoms inside the nightstand drawer.

Kory, on the other hand, slithers lazily around his body like a snake around a pole, until her nipples are barely touching his, stiff from the cold also possibly arousal. Her smile is razor-sharp yet somehow innocent when she speaks. “Have we ever done something you do not consent with, Jason?” she asks, her voice honey-sweet, to which Jason is going to say ‘Hell yes’. But his voice dies in his throat, withers and shatters, as Kory – she _has_ learned some things from Roy, it seems, for the worse rather than good – twists and slips between his thighs, pressing the tip of his cock between her folds, and Jason chokes and flushes and _moans_.

The temperature in the room is not so cold now, at least not in Jason’s opinion. It is possible that he _thinks_ it’s not, what with the last bits of his brain conjugates at the feeling of Roy’s calloused hand pressing bruises on his skin; Kory’s teeth nibbling on every inch of exposed skin she can reach. Jason breathes like a strangled man, tries to keep the sound of his pants down, forces the moan that is literally ripped out of his throat back, but he simply _can’t_.

It’s Roy’s hand that travels down to grab his cock, flicks his wrist and Jason’s hard in a second, but it’s Kory’s lips that crash against his and play with his tongue in the filthiest way imaginable – Jason moans and groans and _shivers_ like they’re in the god damned _Sahara desert_ instead of a fucked-up town with the temperature of at least _minus five degrees_.

And he – he has some problems with this, he is sure. Problems with not having sex because it’s –

_Oh god_ that is –

Roy’s fingers wet from the lube slipping inside –

Kory’s hand massaging his balls –

And _Roy’s fingers_ slipping his cock into Kory and that’s –

Jason’s reasons are jumping out the window, replaced by his moans and Roy and Kory’s names on his lips.


End file.
